


Toys/Voyeurs

by wrote_and_writ



Series: Random Fandom Twelve Days of Stories: Naughty Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 10:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16972635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrote_and_writ/pseuds/wrote_and_writ
Summary: Since I'm beset with holiday madness, I decided to do a Fic-Mas Advent Thingymabob. I'm writing a set of naughty and a set of nice drabbles. Because I sail my ships on indiscriminate seas, there will be a mix of fandoms and pairings as I go down the list. Hopefully, you will find something you like.





	Toys/Voyeurs

“Ms. Granger, these just came for you.”

Hermione winced as Sally Zheng, her officious assistant, dropped an armful of scrolls on the already-precarious pile of work on her desk. 

“Thank you, Sally,” Hermione said with a barely concealed note of panic.

Sally gave a brusque nod and flounced -- Hermione swore she flounced -- from the office. Assistants didn’t have to stay past office hours on Fridays. Assistants didn’t sleep in their offices. They didn’t order takeaway for every meal. 

Assistants got to go on romantic dates to the theater with the scions of top wizarding families. Not that Hermione envied Sally her date with -- she couldn’t even summon the name of the bland, blond, chinless young man whose photo Sally had begun to display on her desk. 

Hermione looked at the stack of scrolls awaiting her attention -- all very important pieces of legislation needing the counsel of Ms. Granger, historian and all around brainypants. Or so Sally called her when she thought Hermione couldn’t hear her. Among other things she said. 

Sally. 

Sally had been two years behind Hermione and her friends at Hogwarts. She’d noticed the girl, with her rose-washed cheeks, almond eyes, hair like black silk shot through with blue, purple, pink. Hermione still recalled the envy that stabbed her when she saw Sally approach the Sorting Hat, jealous that an eleven year old was so self possessed that she showed up at Hogwarts with blue streaks in her hair. Blue streaks her new housemates bewitched to a dazzling emerald when she joined Slytherin.

Somehow, that self possession held, all through their turbulent, violence-filled years of schooling. Sally never fell in with the Death Eaters. Sally and a dark-eyed boy called Lin-Manuel lead a counter faction that fought alongside the DA. Throughout the chaos and trauma, flashes of Sally’s now-gold and black streaked hair, rosebud mouth set in a determined grimace, dry eyes after the Battle of Hogwarts as she gathered her living friends to tend to their dead. These images flashed at the edges of Hermione’s memories of her school years. 

Hermione signed again, and the entire stack of parchments toppled and hit the floor. 

It would only take a wave of her wand to right the papers. A flick of the wrist, and Hermione could get back to work. One little spell.

Instead, Hermione put her head on her desk and fought back the flood of tears she’d been holding back since, well, fuck, since she’d accepted this post in the justice department of the ministry and learned just how little a difference she had made. Six years ago. 

“Get it together, Granger.”

She was tired, tense, lonely, hungry, and, curse it all, she was horny. Hermione had yet to quash the seeds of longing that had been planted at university. 

Attending the University of Winchester had been simultaneously the best and worst decision she’d made since helping Neville search for his toad on her first ride to Hogwarts. University, where no one knew her as a hero or fighter. Cleverness, well, she couldn’t hide that. She was an excellent student, but she was allowed to blossom and thrive at university. 

But not knowing her past. That meant no one was afraid of her, of her power. People spoke to her like she was an eighteen-year-old girl. Blokes asked her out on dates. Girls asked her out, and Hermione threw herself into the business of making the most of these human connections.

It put a strain that felt irrevocable on her her relationships with her best friends. Ron went travelling with Harry, then came back to mind the joke shop with George. Harry. Harry went off the grid, although she’d heard rumors he’d taken up with Malfoy of all people. Although that didn’t shock her so much, not after she got a few semesters of psychology under her belt at uni. Mostly, it made her sad that they were all so broken they weren’t able to be friends. She always meant to call, but work.

Work.

Work work work work.

With a flick of her wrist, Hermione cleared the top of her desk. She sat back in her chair. Out her feet up. She couldn’t think anymore.

She hitched her robes up around her waist, scrunched her skirt up, and lay back as far as the seat would go. 

She was about to begin, casting about for an image to help her focus, when she remembered to cast a hasty _muffliato_. At the same moment, glittering almond eyes the color of an ebony want and silky hair (now office-appropriate black), a pink mouth that alternately sulked, smirked, and quirked with sly laughter. 

Hermione’s right hand slipped under the elastic band of her knickers, slipped inside. She was warm, wet, welcoming. Her left hand traced the skin under her blouse, thumbs circling nipples now taut under her clothes. 

She bit her lip as she imagined Sally standing on the other side of the desk.

“Ms. Granger,” she’d purr. “Surely you’re not doing that--” Her index finger stroked and stroked with a steady pressure -- “here.” Finger in and out, pressing along the crease. “Ms. Granger.” A second finger joined. 

It wasn’t going to be enough.

“You’re a clever girl, Ms. Granger.” Sally’s imagined voice, slick with disdain that brought a flush of heat to Hermione’s skin. “Surely you can improvise.”

Hermione cast a desperate glance around her office, as if something would magically appear.

“Ms. Granger.” Disapproval in every syllable.

Fuck. Of course. Magic.

Hermione grasped her want and transfigured her name plate into a sleek silver vibrator.

“Good girl.” She imagined Sally’s approval, and her heart thumped in double time. “Show me how it works.”

Hermione put her feet back up on the desk, leaned back, and slipped the vibrator inside. She started with the lowest setting, imagining it was Sally humming against her. Hermione bit her lip hard, drawing out the sensation as long as her imagination let her. 

_Hum my name,_ she imagined. She rested the vibrator between her legs and tugged her nipples. 

“Sally,” she murmured. She switched up the intensity, letting the rounded tip dance across her, teasing her opening, holding on, holding out.

“Ms. Granger.”

“Sally.” Slowly, Hermione pushed the toy inside. Languid, slow, slow, slow, in and out.

“Ms, Granger.”

“Sally, oh god.” Hermione increased the vibrations and began to thrust in earnest. She pressed into the chair as her pleasure rose and fell in her. “Sally, Sally…”

It didn’t take long for Hermione to make herself come. This need had built in her for too long. She moaned and gasped and called Sally’s name again. 

“Ms. Granger!”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open, and there was Sally, leaning against the door, a strange look on her face. 

“Oh. Oh, shit.” Hermione hastily covered herself with her robes, vibrator still buzzing inside her. “Oh, my god, Ms. Zheng. I’m so sorry, I--”

“Forgot to lock the door.” Sally smiled. “Idiot.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

Sally grinned. “Since you made yourself that shiny new toy. Which I’m pretty sure is against ministry regulations. Somehow. I’m sure you know.”

“Ms. Zheng, I--”

“Sally,” she said. “Don’t get all formal on me now, Ms. Granger.” Sally took out her wand. A whispered spell, and Hermione heard the lock click. “One of the first spells I learned at Hogwarts,” she said as she tossed her coat aside. “Only way to get any privacy.”

Sally wore a slinky, beaded evening dress, cut to expose a deep V of skin down the center of her torso. Hermione was acutely aware that her faded knickers were at least ten years old.

“Sally.”

Sally closed her eyes and smiled. “There it is. I do believe you conjured me, Ms. Granger. Or maybe I forgot my purse and saw the light under your door.” She opened her eyes and made her way to Hermione’s side. She knelt beside the chair. “Who knows? But now that I’m here…”

Sally slid Hermione’s skirts up to her waist. “Either way, Ms. Granger, why don’t you show me what forced those delicious sounds from your mouth? I’m certain I want a taste.”


End file.
